


Helpless

by MrsThreepwood



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Caring John, Drug Use, Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, god I suck at tags, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:19:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsThreepwood/pseuds/MrsThreepwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between TSoT and HLV.<br/>After leaving the wedding early, Sherlock turns to an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpless

_Take the light and darken everything around me_

 

One last glance back and Sherlock knew he did the right thing. Even with Mrs. Hudson's words ringing in his ears, there was no other way for him than leaving his best and only friend's wedding early. John. His conductor of light. A small smile made it's way on Sherlock's lips as he thought of one of their most exciting cases.  
He had tried to express his feelings towards John right then but obviously Sherlock Holmes wasn't made for sentiments and especially not for showing affection.

The night was chilly and once again Sherlock was glad to have his loyal coat with him. Maybe this piece of clothing was the only thing left of the glorious days of the brilliant detective and the army doctor. Everything else seemed unreachable right now, caught in a brightly illuminated ballroom with a happy bride and an even happier groom.

 

_Call your name every day when I feel so helpless_

 

Right at the beginning of their journey as flatmates and a crime-solving-duo, Sherlock knew what a trustworthy and loyal person John was. Whenever a critical situation arose or Sherlock almost fainted from an experiment gone wrong, he wouldn't call “Help” but “John”. The detective didn't even realize this change in his subconscious behaviour. In Sherlock's world, “John” became a synonym for “help”. Also for home, warmth, nice tea, relaxed evenings with Chinese take-out and craptelly – but of course Sherlock would never admit that to anyone.

When he came home from the wedding, 221b was wrapped in deafening silence. John's empty chair seemed to mock Sherlock and he felt waves of panic and nausea hitting him. His first impulse was to call for John – but Sherlock finally realized that there was no way the man could be there for him now. Instead he dragged himself into his bed, letting the grief and fear wash through his body.

 

_Hate the mind, regrets are better left unspoken_   
_For all we know, this void will grow_

 

The following weeks were a blur for Sherlock. As soon as John and Mary left for their honeymoon, the genius turned to his sweetest and deadliest friend: drugs.  
He hadn't touched cocaine and heroine in years but there was no reason to stay clean any more. Moriarty was dead, Mycroft was somewhere in Russia with his own 'goldfish' and the only human being he wanted to be good for had now left him. Drugs were a true friend though, filling the emptiness inside him, improving his deduction skills and deleting all the thoughts of regret and “could have, would have, should have”.

The first few days were a bliss. Sherlock solved 7 cases in 48 hours, leaving most of the Yarders with open mouths and admiration. Only Lestrade cared enough to see what was going on and offered his help – knowing exactly Sherlock wouldn't take it.  
As days went by, Sherlock's state went from “genius on high-speed” to “ranting, insomniac arse”. Of course he didn't get any cases from Lestrade any more, so he decided to go undercover and expand his connection with the homeless network. At least that was what he told himself. It definitely sounded better than the truth: going into a shabby drug-den to get cheap shots and someone to talk to.

 

_I'm fallin' down, but I'll rise above this_   
_I'll mend myself before it gets me_

 

When John discovered him on the dirty and stinking mattress, Sherlock was shocked and relieved at the same time. He definitely didn't expect to see John in such a place and his mind -not working properly- immediately screamed to get the doctor out of this place. On the other hand Sherlock wanted nothing more than to cling to his friend, knowing John could somehow make everything all right.

Instead of comfort and a hug, Sherlock received a slap from Molly only a few hours later. Of course he knew he deserved it, but the force in this small woman still took him by surprise.  
It wasn't the slap though that made him rethink his actions of the last weeks, it was the sheer disappointment in John's eyes. Maybe Sherlock couldn't be good enough to be John's love, but he could at least try to be a good friend.

 

_Forty eight ways to say that I'm feelin' helpless_

 

Despite the advice from John and Molly, Sherlock decided to go cold turkey. The first nights he shivered from chills, screamed from pain and slept only long enough to fall into another nightmare. He tried to tell himself he didn't need any help, but when he awoke on the kitchen floor without any memory of leaving his bed, Sherlock knew better. With trembling fingers he managed to text John. It was the middle of the night and since there came no reply, Sherlock decided to send another text. And another one.  
Forty eight texts later, the door to their once shared living room swung open and John stormed into the flat, eyes searching for the detective. Just as he wanted to rush into Sherlock's bedroom, he saw the lanky figure sitting on the floor, leaning against the kitchen counter.  
“John.”

 

_I'm fallin' down but I'll rise above this doubt_

 

 

Though he wasn't as fit as in his army days, John was still surprisingly strong. Almost effortlessly he carried Sherlock into bed, leaving him for a couple of minutes to get a big glass of water and a damp wash-cloth.  
“Are you sure you don't want me to get you anything?”, John asked in low voice while he laid the cloth on Sherlock's forehead.  
“Yes, John. Just...”  
“What is it?”  
“Forget it. Sorry I've bothered you. Already feeling better. You should leave now. I'm sure Mary's already waiting and probably she needs you more now than I do.”  
“Mary is fine. Look, if you want me to go, just say so.”  
“Actually I'd like you to stay.”, Sherlock managed to get out and turned his head away rapidly, sending the wash-cloth onto the pillow.  
A rough hand softly turned his chin around and deep blue eyes were looking at him.  
“You don't need to feel bad for wanting me to stay, Sherlock.”

Shoes were kicked off and without shaking the bed too much, John settled next to Sherlock, softly stroking the younger man's dark curls.  
“What about Mary? I don't think she wants her husband to share a bed with his mad former flatmate.  
“Shut up, Sherlock. Mary understands way more than you think she does. She knows how I feel about you and from your best man's speech every guest from the wedding knows how you feel about me. Now go to sleep, we'll sort it out as soon as you feel better.”  
“Thanks, John.”, Sherlock mumbled before he drifted off to sleep. For once in a long time he didn't have any nightmares and the feeling of being helpless had finally vanished. With John Watson on his side, there was no need to call for help any more.

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qP6JDLQF23g
> 
> Inspired by "Rise Above This" (Seether)


End file.
